


SUCK IT AND SEE

by ofmonstersandleashes



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Consensual Somnophilia, Diary/Journal, Don't copy to another site, Friends With Benefits, Insomnia, Introspection, Just a slight mention FOR NOW, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Season 8 Doesn't Exist, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Switching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-11-01 22:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20531600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofmonstersandleashes/pseuds/ofmonstersandleashes
Summary: Shiro would wake up and yearn to hear a quiet snoring that wasn't his, only to face his cold, empty bed. Every time he crossed Keith’s path in the last three days, every breakfast, lunch, meeting, training; Shiro caught himself looking deep inside Keith's night-sky tinted eyes and wondering,what would you do if I told you I'm in love with you?





	SUCK IT AND SEE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so I guess this can be considered as an exploration of Shiro's memories as he comes to terms with the shit he's been through and his feelings for Keith. Not really angsty, at least not in my eyes, but I WILL touch on sensitive subjects, like the mind merging thing. I couldn't resist trying to show everyone a little bit closer and hints of Honerva's robeasts being a thing is probably the only thing I'm getting from s8's plot. Still, the focus here is on Shiro's relationship with Keith, opening up, play around with a few hcs and keep hopeful undertones! Also, all the sex scenes I can fit on canon timeline. 'Kay? Yay.  
  
Oh, and I wrote the entirety of this listening to Arctic Monkeys, with emphasis on the Suck It And See album, so the title seemed fitting.  
Will probably take a while to update it. That's it, hope you like it!

Slowly pacing back and forth along the corridor just outside Keith's quarters, Shiro asks himself what the hell is he doing.

His datapad is set on Earth's time clock and marking 0300 hours. He should be sleeping, but there's a beautifully arranged bouquet of gardenias in his hand. The echoes of his footsteps reverberate too loud over the IGF-Atlas's halls, Shiro's aware of that. Anyone could leave any of these rooms around him to check what the noise is all about — Krolia included since she sleeps three doors down to her son — and find their Captain with damp hair dripping slightly in his color-coded nightclothes. But Shiro can't bring himself to care, because despite being at peace with _almost_ every corner of his life, it's the middle of the night and Shiro's mind is in turmoil after realizing he has no interest in sleeping if his best friend is not by his side.

It was still 2307 hours when he entered his bedroom, after another exhausting last minute inspection along the Atlas, and maneuvered a way out of his uniform while devouring two pieces of some cold leftover pizza. It was 2343 hours when he left a refreshing shower to slip into cotton-soft pajama pants and shirt, crawled under his blankets and grabbed his datapad to finish reviewing just one last report. It was 2354 hours when he decided it was getting late for someone who had to be up too early for a meeting with Iverson and dropped the datapad at the empty side of his bed.

But the untouched part of his sheets felt cold under his hand. Shiro hated the way his skin shivered while sleeping at cold places, never for the obvious reasons, so he had the habit of positioning himself almost at the center of his bed when he was alone, but it was still a fairly big bed, — even for his standards — making it impossible to warm everything on his own. 

Ignoring the train of thought his mind was trying to pull, he raised just a little of the temperature of his room through the datapad and closed his eyes to sleep. But as expected, nothing happened.

Shiro took a deep breath and shifted to lie on his side, placing a free pillow between his legs and grabbing another to squeeze with his arms. He pulled it close, but everything smelled like the Garrison's old and cheap washing powder and nothing else. His heart threatened to ache, a hard sting growing inside his ribcage, but Shiro only pulled his blankets closer, covering everything up to the numb cold tip of his ears with the heavy, soft fabric and tried to relax.

Minutes passed, but, nothing happened.

Body comfortable, nice and cozy, all Shiro had to do was rest, but just like yesterday, and the night before that and almost every other one since the Battle for Earth, nothing happened.

Shiro had lifted his heart as high as the ship he put in the sky, heard it drum inside his chest for rejoining his team in battle, and equalize its beating to face an old nightmare before it turned his deepest fears into reality. But once the paladins fell to earth, Shiro hated the inability to do anything but stay and watch and ache as his heart fell back down with them. For that way it kept, day after day until one by one, they'd wake up, until even Keith would wake up, and Shiro kept sinking without landing anywhere.

For three months now, nights would come and go and only sometimes Shiro was lucky to be exhausted enough to not mind crashing at the nearest surface from his door, which was usually his couch. Never long enough for nightmares to reach the shores of his mind, but no dreams would catch him as well. Just glimpses of scattered thoughts, frail memories, formless fantasies. All drifting the surface of Shiro's conscience as he strives for the depths of a never-ending emotional suspension.

Releasing a heavy exhale, Shiro had opened his eyes again and reached out of his covers for his datapad to scroll through an extended list of neglected e-books. Usually, he reads, but tonight, none of the soft romances or epic war dramas, space operas or fantasy-horror thrillers on his growing list had piqued his curiosity. Pressing play on a Monsters & Mana web series Coran had sent him a few days ago did nothing to his growing agitation beyond a deep, low sigh and roll of his eyes when he realized it was a Bi-Boh-Bi campaign with no alternatives of dubbing or subtitles.

Scrubbing tingling exhaustion off his eyes, Shiro had considered pulling back that report to finish it at once but ugh, no. Reviewing battle plans and the rest of his week's schedule? Definitely no.

It was already 0036 hours and Shiro's body grew uncomfortable under the blankets, itching at annoying places, a slight threat of sweat enveloping his warming skin. The cotton of his pillow made too much noise against his ea—

_ You're just losing your patience_, came the warning on his mind.

Shiro took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders to release the tension from his muscles. Maybe clearing his datapad's gallery could be a good idea to distract himself. 

Scrolling it revealed too many memes from Matt and Lance, too many reaction images from Pidge. Hunk always sent too many pictures of food for Shiro to enjoy here so far from an actual kitchen equipped with actual food, not to mention the ridiculous amount of pictures of gorgeous new and old cars. Not even slightly fun when they were all so close to leaving earth.

But Shiro still couldn't refrain himself from keeping a few photographs of an ancient black muscle model with white stripes decorating its hood in a separate folder. For science.

Sent to another folder he named as "paladin fam" were the pictures of his friends. For the cover, the only picture they had managed to take in Arus with the castle still resting on its surface and all the lions far back on the horizon. All of them posing side by side, wearing half-stripped armors or only their respective jackets over undersuits. Coran had said they were supposed to look cool, Shiro believes they looked even better. It was cute, everyone looking hopeful, even if they were still a little reserved around each other.

Shiro added the many selfies everyone had sent to their chat group to keep contact as they recovered and adjusted on earth. The one picture Pidge had taken of Krolia resting her hand on her chin with her attention fixated on Romelle at the Garrison's late-night cafeteria. Another with all of them bothering a recently awakened Keith with a picnic at his hospital room. The sequence Colleen had taken of an alarmingly annoyed Pidge holding the infamous bouquet of gardenias beside an absolutely delighted Hunk holding a bouquet of red tulips for Shiro to choose. Colleen had guaranteed him that they believed it was for listing purposes and his secret was safe.

Shiro had already noticed the alarming amount of recent photographs where he only appeared if someone had managed to steal him between meetings. Like when Matt had bribed his attention with a warm cup of tea, or Lance annoyed him by capturing his impatience as they waited for a late diplomat. Or whenever Keith literally popped into existence by his side with Kosmo to deliver a report from the blades and check on him, and the night Shiro and Allura got stuck in a meeting with alien diplomats for too long and every one asked them to send a signal if they were still among the living.

There were also pictures of rare alien movie nights at the castle, a surprise presentation from the mice, or the day Allura agreed to teach everyone how to properly use the altean pool and proceeded to _playfully_ throw everyone on it, and the many times they made a mess as they tried to help a very distressed Hunk at the kitchen. Even a lot of blurry videos from the day Pidge challenged everyone in training, got a draw with Keith, but only lost to Allura and Shiro.

And Keith. He had a lot of pictures of Keith. 

A few recent family pictures, that Keith never thought about taking but would smile every time someone showed it to him. Talking with his mom at his bedside at the hospital, playing fetch with Kosmo as Kolivan made him company once he was discharged from the hospital, or teaming up with Allura to beat Lance's ass at a sword-training session.

A picture of him well-dressed to dinner with his mom and Romelle after they finally told him they were a thing. He was nervous, fidgeting around in Hunk’s bedroom as both Hunk and Shiro helped him decide what to wear, and Shiro was so grateful for Hunk being there because Keith looked so elegant. If they were alone, Shiro’s sure he wouldn’t have resisted the temptation to press Keith against a wall and steal a kiss after fixing the collar of his dark red turtleneck.

He was too close, glancing up at Shiro through his thick eyelashes. Shiro could see his breath quickening and he really wanted to get him to relax. Just a quick make-out section, kiss at his neck, say that there was no need to worry cause his night would be great, until Keith would start melting under him.

But they weren’t alone, and certainly not in Shiro’s bedroom. So Shiro just let go of Keith’s shirt to pull his datapad and take a picture before Keith could protest, and face Hunk’s unimpressed glare for the rest of the night.

Pictures from before, when they were exploring the Castleship and Keith made sure to always be the first to cross a door. Pictures of Keith just smiling back at Shiro, bored or doing absolutely nothing extraordinary. Keith training, whenever there was a move too perfect to not be recorded, or Keith down on the floor, sweaty and exhausted — which was a rare enough feat considering his impossible stamina and Shiro felt an obligation to register every time.

Pictures Shiro would sneakily take of Keith lying on his bed filling up a report for the Blades. The sequence of two pictures where Keith was caught by surprise while stripping off his armor at the edge of Shiro's bed in the first, and smiling as he crawled over Shiro's body in only his undersuit in the second. There was also the rare picture Keith would comply with sending Shiro from the far corners of the universe whenever he was available between missions with the Blades. Just to assure him he was fine.

And only one picture of Keith sleeping beside him, the last time he did it. Quiet and peaceful with a hand under his pillow at the black lion, a fresh scar resting too close to his eyes — those impossibly indigo eyes that Shiro loved to drown himself in — and tearing its way down his jaw, soft hair unconsciously tucked away to not scratch at the recently wounded skin.

There weren't many pictures of them together.

There were two from before Kerberos, which Keith had salvaged from his shack. One was from their hoverbike rides. The other was taken on Kerberos's launch day.

There were a few others. Keith was always too serious in them, and Shiro often found himself searching ways to get him to smile, poking at his sides, tickling his ribs. Keith would always look lovely then, he had the most adorable smile, the cutest annoyed face and with time, Shiro realized he was always looking at Keith in those. With too many hints of a lovestruck crush on his face. So he started to avoid those pictures because they'd make him realize how good they looked together. Made his heart skip too many beats, and usually give him an irresistible desire to throw Keith in a bed and fuck him slowly against the mattress, or every other way Shiro knows his friend likes.

Sometimes Shiro ignored the standard approach of their unspoken agreement and acted recklessly on that desire. Keith always answered to it passionately, giggling against his mouth, then eager, pliant and breathless, taking all Shiro would give him. But the aftermath was always hazy and silent, with Keith pretending to sleep abnormally fast and being gone in the morning. Explanations had never been offered and Shiro would never press for it. For him, Keith's _"I don't want to make things weird between us if we do this."_ said ages before was enough of an explanation.

As silly as it could be, Shiro still put all the pictures he had of his best friend on a separate folder he named after a "<3".

Then, it was 0117 hours and Shiro realized he hadn't heard from Keith the whole day. And his mind gave another pull at the train of thoughts he likes so much to ignore.

Shiro supposed this was normal, they were all busy. Their chat group had been silent almost the whole week, only a casual _ “good morning” _ or _ “goodnight” _ or an emergency _ “Keith, I have to be in a meeting at the Rebel’s installations in 5 minutes, can you please send Kosmo to help? I have cookies” _ being sent here and there. 

Earth was rebuilding itself with the help of the Coalition. Shiro was captaining and about to launch this huge ship supposed to take so many different people to the stars, for the first time for many humans, just thinking about it made the corners of his mouth twist and...

And there was no one to talk to about it now.

Actually, Shiro hadn't talked about how full-filled he felt lately to anyone. Yes, the Blades were reporting insurgences within Galra ranks. But a risky situation hadn't prevented Shiro from seizing a moment before.

Way before, the before that seemed too familiar once he put his feet back again on Earth's surface.

Shiro hadn't even talked about it to his therapist. The therapist he knew was important for him to see, and not just because it was requested of him to follow the garrison’s standard procedures. The therapist he had committed with Allura to see because all of the other paladins had already and eventually the excuse of being too busy would stop being enough for the two of them. The therapist they really ended up visiting once Matt so unconsciously stumbled into them right outside their offices, started his unescapable chatter while maneuvering them around the Garrison's corridors until_ oh so shockingly_ blurting a _ "Hey, what a coincidence! Isn't this the therapist's wing?" _ and shoving both Shiro and Allura inside a different door.

Shiro admits the appointments had started well, interesting even. The therapist enjoyed his characteristic humor, saying it was an interesting way for Shiro to express his perspective. Shiro tried telling him the essential and a bit more because he knew it was important, he knew it could be good for him. But he constantly found himself skimming through too many topics every time the lump on his throat would make itself known. He did tell about the flashbacks and nightmares, he told him he tried to not back away from the situations that could scare him. He told him that having a team that cared for him helped a lot, and he told a little about Keith. How Keith made him feel safe.

But the first session ended with Shiro holding back how he felt now without his disease or had been feeling ever since he came back to Voltron without it. In the second session, Shiro pretended to get an emergency call once they approached the fact that he had died. At the third session, Shiro was just about to dodge the fact that he had been fucking his best friend for who knows how long now when the therapist interrupted Shiro to explain he would be assigned to someone else on Atlas if he had intentions about continuing treatment once he was up in space. He also suggested it would be nice if Shiro took his own initiative forward and tried to open up even more. Maybe through journaling over the things he avoided talking about, maybe trying to reach out for some of his friends, maybe by confronting his feelings about Keith.

Giving him his best smile — the one Keith always affectionately refer to as the _bullshit smile_ — Shiro muttered an overly excited "Yes, absolutely. I will try to do that" and fled out of there.

Surprisingly, — or not, really — Allura stormed from the room next door at the same time grunting altean curses Shiro was sure he'd never heard Coran even mention before. Shiro couldn't avoid a yelp as Allura pulled at his and matt's — who always waited patiently outside for them — arms with her unnatural strength and dragged both to the cafeteria in search of silence and a piece of cake.

Shiro had devoured his dark chocolate flavored slice, cleaning the plate of all the marshmallow, never taking a second to feel guilty about it. Matt finished an orange cake decorated with some edible pink flowers that were definitely not from earth quite fast, but Allura remained taking little tiny bits of a coconut cake she had decided to try and slowly taking it to her mouth, clearly relishing it.

Shiro only broke the quietness to ask if someone else's appointments had been that bad. Matt said that unsurprisingly, Coran was the only one who kept going into them. To the alteans, those were more exchange of knowledge and conversation, of course, but Coran seemed to enjoy them.

At that, Allura frowned, never taking her eyes out of her dessert, no apparent desire of saying anything. Shiro took her cue and focused on his plate as well, pretending he wasn't feeling the weight of Matt's gaze on them.

As usual with them, no one had the full picture of everything that had happened. Matt was maybe the only one who had a lot of scattered details. Pidge was more comfortable confiding in him, and then the rest of the team was as well. Matt never minded, he was a kind brother, a gentle friend, and his years in space had done him good, despite spending 3 or 4 years probably thinking they were all dead.

Or maybe precisely for this reason.

“It's okay,” Matt had said, eventually, “I know none of this is easy. You'll be fine. All of us, we'll be fine.”

Time passed as Shiro's feelings kept trying to come to the surface for some air, his mind questioning his actions here and there, trying to get his attention on this matter or that one. Shiro kept ignoring, silencing and pushing everything back down the pit. Until tonight.

Shiro knew he could've texted Keith. After all, lust hadn't been the only reason for Shiro to drag Keith to his bed over and over again through the years. There were the bad nights, where they gravitated towards each other in search of a comforting silence, a meaningful or even silly conversation, until one of their voices stopped responding, finally lost to sleep.

However, Shiro still wondered if it really wasn't just lust making chaos on his mind tonight. He was no stranger to depriving himself of a certain too many things, Keith's smooth skin had been included on this list for a while already, but Shiro's line was drawn at sleeping. They'd be leaving Earth on Atlas in just a few days, there was too much to do. Shiro needed a disciplined, good night of sleep.

He was tired, and maybe a little horny, his brain had always been a little traitorous. Wouldn't hurt to pleasure himself, it never did. Maybe the relief could tire him out and actually bring him some brief peace of mind.

Or so he'd hoped.

When his clock hit 0142 hours, Shiro started by stretching his legs across the bed until he could feel the burn from his muscles loosening up. He ran both prosthetic and flesh fingers through his hair, sweeping it back and away from his face, he dragged nails and fingertips all the way down his scalp, massaging and disheveling all of the short hair on its path to knead along his nape. His skin prickled lightly there and goosebumps crawled over his arms, but he continued rubbing behind his ears, following under his jaw to his neck, pressing on his shoulders to loosen up, then all the way back again. His breathing evening as he worked his body to relax.

It didn't take long for his head to get slightly dizzy and Shiro decides it was enough. He tucked the prosthetic under the pillow at his head and released a breathy hum as his upper torso settled more comfortably on the bed. He felt a little too self-conscious for his own taste, but tried his best to ignore and enjoy the way his own skin reacted to touch as he smoothed a path from his neck, to his collarbones, and descended a line inside soft cotton sheets to his chest, feeling a shiver run down his spine as warm fingers brushed just slightly at sensitive skin. Trying not to give the act too much thought, just closing his eyes and digging around his mind for what could get him fast release, and of course his traitorous brain had brought him memories of Keith.

_Keith's half-lidded eyes, spying Shiro through thick eyelashes or rolling back his skull with pleasure. Keith's eager mouth, opening up to receive and devour every single inch of Shiro's body, releasing the sweetest sounds in response to Shiro's every touch. The long and unbelievably strong legs that held Shiro right where Keith wanted him, the elegant and furtive fingers massaging Shiro's chest, making their way to rub at his hipbone and down the curve of his ass, caressing and squeezing and exploring and, and..._

"_Keith..._" Shiro had whispered to no one but himself and the dark as fingertips left the languid torture on his chest and trailed down towards his boxers. He held his hardening cock to stroke it lazy and slow. In his mind, only Keith, _always Keith,_ ripping Shiro apart in his teasing, kind and lovely way.

Lovely.

The word had made his heart jump inside its cage at the same time he teased himself by rubbing a finger around the head of his cock. It had always been like that, but it became unbearable after Keith had literally thrown the sentiment at the table. Yet, they didn't talk about it at the time and still hadn’t until now.

There was something in the idea of Keith willingly loving, desiring and adoring him while simultaneously fucking him that was just dangerous. Made Shiro’s bones ache with longing. Shiro kept telling himself over time that it was just fucking. Keith worshipped him in bed, overwhelmed him with pleasure, and Shiro can barely believe he deserves the privilege. Anything more seemed ridiculous.

They love each other, yes. The brotherly affection that Keith likes to emphasize every once in a while has been there for a long time. Too long. So yes, Shiro told himself it was just fucking. _Keith is intense, that's why it seems the way it seems. You're imagining things. _

Shiro started avoiding Keith's bed then. Not that it was hard after the last time, they were busy and everyone was too close to each other. Shiro moved to green to spend more time with Pidge, but he knew there was more to his reasoning and still ignored. Time passed, and ignoring seemed easier. Keith helps to make it easier, he rarely presses Shiro. Keith himself was focusing on the team, and Shiro didn't want to be a distraction.

That's why Shiro had spent the present night by flipping himself on his belly then, leaving his dripping cock to seek friction on the bed so his hands could grab a bottle of lube at his drawer and finger himself while thinking about getting fucked by his best friend again. Feeling the delicious burn from thrusting one, then two of his prosthetic's fingers just a little bit too roughly inside himself.

It didn't take him long to come, it hadn't been different, it hadn't been less because it was just him and his hands. It had been really good actually. But Shiro's hands longed for a specific pair of slender hands to hold, a specific tongue combined with the occasional hint of fangs to lick, a specific warm cock to suck, a specific neck to devote his mouth to. His own moaning and groaning sounded better when there was this specific raspy voice balancing Shiro's own. The lack of this very specific joyful laugh not echoing around the bedroom hurt just a little deeper inside his chest.

Tonight’s hadn't been an isolated occurrence, after all, the bouquet did spend the whole day marooning in a vase so Shiro could get his shit together. And Shiro tried, he had spent the last three days questioning, doubting, wondering, denying, cursing the psychologist for putting ideas into his mind, then considering and back once again to doubting.

Shiro would wake up and yearn to hear a quiet snoring that wasn't his, only to face his cold and empty bed. Every time he crossed Keith’s path in the last three days, every breakfast, lunch, meeting, training; Shiro caught himself looking deep inside Keith's night-sky tinted eyes and wondering,_ what would you do if I told you I'm in love with you?_

But Shiro is clearly, an idiot when it comes to love and required a masturbation session filled with _sexy Keith imagery_ to realize that, maybe, there was a chance Keith had already been secretly cherishing every single intimate moment they spent together. And maybe, he could be feeling just as lonely. And Keith feeling lonely had always fallen into the "tragedy" category on Shiro's book.

That said, explaining this would be embarrassing - which perhaps justified his therapist's desire to put this matter on the top 3 of a priority list - and Shiro had to understand the whole length of his stupidity before knocking at Keith's door at 3am to give him a bouquet and say_ I'm sorry but I supposed this was just a friend with benefits thing to you and I can't take this thought anymore because I love you and I couldn't sleep because I really want to suck your dick but, you know, lovingly_ because Keith is a fucking tease and Matt's and Rizavi's quarters are even closer than Krolia's and Shiro is still there planted on Keith’s corridor, so scared of being rejected and getting a heartbreak and a ruined friendship in a single hit he’s overthinking his excuses?_ Oh yes, he is, absolutely._

Keith probably wouldn't even mind, he knew Shiro from head to toe. Maybe he would just grab the sad bouquet, give Shiro a shy peck on his lips and gently pull Shiro inside his bedroom. Push him against a wall and down to his knees to punish Shiro's throat with hard, sleep-dazed thrusts of his cock. Or maybe Keith would lay down on his bed while Shiro's mouth warmed his cock back to sleep, those lovely and agile hands massaging softly at the back of his ear and clawing at his scalp every time he wanted Shiro to move. 

Or maybe just lay down, kiss each other goodnight and cuddle innocently, leaving Shiro's cocksucking needs for the morning.

Maybe he already knew Shiro had a bouquet. Maybe Kinkade had secretly recorded him picking up the flowers with Colleen and showed it to everybody. Maybe Colleen herself had told Matt and Matt had told everybody, because everybody assigned in the Atlas crew was already proving to be just as stupid as their Captain and always down to find a victim to roast. Shiro had already spent the last few days on the danger zone because he couldn't avoid ogling and sighing dreamily every time Keith passed through him in that fucking uniform and gloves and everyone on this damn ship was just waiting for Shiro to slip.

Like having a one-sided relationship crisis with a bouquet in hand wearing cotton pajamas under his silky white and black robes outside Keith's door in the middle of the night.

Or maybe not, maybe Keith had no idea and was just stupid as him and wondering if Shiro thought this was just fucking and nothing more.

This raises the question if Shiro had ever shown him this was anything more than just fucking.

With that thought in mind, Shiro exhales, turns around and starts making a way back to his bedroom. He thinks he remembers every single time, he has to remember every single time, since their very first kiss. It hadn't been an everyday thing but had happened with enough frequency for Shiro to map Keith's body, learn his needs and desires.

Memories have been hard to make sense of for a while now. There was the incoherent stream of too much and not enough from the astral plane. There were the memories that were hard to comprehend they were in fact, his. At least now. The memories from a time when he was saving the universe in silent pain. Memories from his imprisonment that refused to come to surface and Shiro sincerely had no intention of making an effort, those could stay lost. And the memories from a simpler, yet somehow not less complicated life that felt so distant in time it could've belonged to someone else.

To think that maybe it did belong to someone else, all things considered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See? That's not really angsty, is it? 
> 
> Anyway, the next chapter is fun, has a mall date and prekerb shenanigans.


End file.
